KnowledgeistheAbsolutePower.

Living the life of a striving poker player. Attempting to mix a work, family,and poker lifestyle into a product that means something someday. And, I wanna be able to bitch sometimes.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Knock the dust off this blog.

Havent blogged since forever. Many things have changed in the five months or so that ive been away.

We have a new President-elect. The economy is possibly taking a turn for the better. OH YEAH! Gas prices are almost under 2.00. Talk about awesome, the wife filled up the minivan last week, and it only gouged us for 58 bucks and some change. Instead of the 90 some odd dollars it was whoring us for a few months ago. So I guess things are looking up.

Or not.

My son had to go in for surgery at Childrens to remove his tonsils and anoids on the 14th of October, needless to say I was slightly nervous, even though I had gone through a similar procedure in my early years. Luckily the doctors who performed the surgery were compitent and he came through with flying colors and gold stars.

All was good until the next day. My boy was sleeping, the wife was napping herself because my girls were at school. So I was watching tv and dozed off myself on the couch. Sometime between when I dozed off and then suprisingly woken up by my wife asking me if I was ok. I noticed I was on the floor in front of my television, my pants were soaked, I felt like my brain wanted to crawl out of my nose, and my body felt like a dead weight. When you weight 400 pounds, thats alot of dead weight.

I managed to get myself off the floor, and scrambled to the bathroom, because I had some excavating to do. I proceeded to vomit, then take a crap. As I was sitting on the throne, I realized that I had just had a seizure.

Talk about life coming back to kick you in the ass. Its been over ten years since I last had to go through this. And let me tell you, its horrible to live again. But it was something I was familiar with, and decided I would go through the motions and deal with this the same way I used to.

Not that easy. I finally was able to back to work the following week after talking it over with my doctor. The following Thursday, I went back to work, did some work in the morning, had a quick meeting with some higher up muckity mucks. Went to lunch, came back to the jobsite, and decided to call it a day. As I was finding one of the subcontractors to talk about some work from the morning for my daily reports, my tongue starting twitching.

My tongue twitching has actually happened before, with no following effects. Before it would usually twitch for a bit, then stop, it was some involintary motion that I figured was a quirk in my brain, it always stopped before after a few seconds.

This time I wasnt so fortunate, instead of stopping, it continued, the twitching progressed from my tongue to my throat, then into my jaw, then I stopped breathing. I was still conscious during this point, so I attempted to tell my coworker Jimmy to call 911, but I couldnt speak. The last thing I saw was the ceiling of my van. I woke up maybe 10 minutes later to the EMT's asking me if I was aware of what was going on. I was at that point, and talk about something freaking you out. I had never before had a seizure while I was awake, so this came as a complete shock to me. Needless to say I felt like I was run through the gauntlet again. I spent the day at the hospital on Andrews AFB, and was eventually released to go home before dinner. When we got home, I was eating my taco bell, and I had another minor attack. This time though, my wife grabbed my head, and at the point where I stopped breaking and my eyes were about to roll back in my head, it stopped. Just like that. I didnt lose consciousness, and I returned to normal within seconds. I had another headache, but that was it for that second attack. Talk about weird.

So now, I havent been to work since that Thursday, I got my last paycheck this past Friday, and I see a neurologist on Tuesday to tell me whats wrong with me. It all really sucks because Christmas is coming, I want to play poker badly, and I have like 16 bucks in my bank account. I hate bills, and I hate being sick.

But fuck it, Ill find a way to make this work. I always do. But if your bored, doing nothing, hell, even reading my blog, shout out a prayer to the big boy upstairs for me. Cuz I am kind of in uncharted territory right now for me. And I hope this has a happy ending.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

My first 1K pot...

Had a mini-im convo with Trav the other day, and he asked me if I ever intended to blog again. I told him I might scare up the interest of writing about a big hand I was involved in about three week's ago. So here it is...

I live in Waldorf, in my home state of Maryland. About four year's ago now, I came across an interesting site called Md-Poker.com. Joined the site, convinced myself it was a good idea to give my money away to strangers. Attended my first poker game in Odenton, Md. Lost all my money going all in when I thought I had the nut straight of KA234.

Four year's ago. I look back on that hand and laugh at how horrible I was. Not that I play any better now, but atleast I know straight's dont continue past the A. Unless you have a wheel. My poker lingo and hand knowledge is atleast up to par. Atleast, that's what I convince myself of.

But the strangest part in all that time is the fact that I was never EVERRRRRRR! able to find a game within my town limit's. If you live in Maryland, then you have probably heard of Waldorf. I wouldnt call it a little town, and I dont think anyone has since the Redskins were consistent playoff contenders, and Reagan was in office. If we elected a mayor anytime soon, it wouldnt suprise me.

Enough history and geography lesson's, back to the story.

In all the time I have been donating money to stanger's funny money funds. I have never been able to find a local game. The only one I knew of for my whole poker hobby was the bi-monthly tournament at the Jaycee's hall. I would ask player's during the tourny if they knew of local games, that was when I would usually catch the cold shoulder. I had given up on trying to find a nice friendly game in Southern Maryland, that is. Until my boy Ricky Bobby called me one night to tell me he was in my neighborhood.

I got the call Friday night, Ricky was around my way, and figured I might want to know I had a poker game right under my nose. He had heard of the game from our mutual friend Keon. And after some backward's directions, he found out the game was literally a stones throw away from my residence. Needless to say, I was suprised. This game hasnt been going long, but it was interesting to know I didnt have to make a trek anymore if I wanted to enjoy poker during the week. Good game, good people, my only gripe is they play 11 handed, other than that. I enjoy this game.

But that the longwinded version of getting to the Tuesday night game I was at in good ol' Waldork. Big Chris, who deals the Friday night game I was introduced to, run's his own game on Tuesday nights. It just so happen's Ricky imed me on AIM, and said he was going to Keon's game. I had some money to burn, so asked if some seats were open. He informed me one or two might be available, and I should come on down.

After some procrastination on my part. I decided to text the local guy's to see if a game was going down my way. Indeed one was. At Big Chris'. I let Ricky know a game was going down this way. And he informed me Keons game was cancelled, so they wanted to swing up this way.

I got info two seats were open, with a few people on the way. Ricky said something or other about coming up, but I should go on ahead and get into the game without delay. Good thinking on Rickys' part.

I arrived at the game, to a nine handed table. Couple of fella's I knew, some I didnt. But mostly just strangers trying to give each other money, or take it, depending on how your luck or skill was running that night. One gentleman had a little under 600 in front, but most were hovering between 200-300, with one or two stacks flirting with the 400 mark.

I decided to sit with 200, and see how the game went. Not too bad for most of the night, down a little, up a little. Somewhere around 350 when the biggest hand of the night, and my poker career came around.

I was in the nine seat, with the BB. UTG player in seat one raises it to 10. Seat three call's. Seat four who has been nursing a short stack after multiple rebuys decided to raise it to 25. folds to seat seven who think's 25 isnt enough, and puts 35 on top of that for 60 to go. folds to me in the BB, and ofcourse, the hand you always want in this situation decides to come out of hiding.

After some himming and hawwing, with a little Hollywood mixed in, I make a nice neat little stack, and slide my tower into the middle. After the 60 is taken, I have exactly 292 behind.

Immediately seat seven goes into sniper mode and gives me the evil eye. Seat one who put in the original raise of 10 wants to let me know my AK is no good, and that he has the ballbuster hand(which is later explained to me as being A5). After more decalaration of how he wants to bust somebody's balls in this pot, he calls his stack off to the tune of somewhere around 195-210, I never did get the exact count.

Seat four, who at this point is short stacked, but also thinking his repop to 25 might have been a bad idea, reluctantly calls his stack as well.

This is where it gets intersting. Seat seven, who has not let me out of his sight since I decided to show him how pretty the colors in my stack looked, is trying to convince himself that I have AK, going so far as to tell me he knows I have AK, and that I really shouldnt have put my chips in the middle, but he isnt quite at the point of wanting to put his chips in, just incase he has the wrong read.

Seat one wont STFU, and continues to rant and rave that his hand is going to donkey someone, and that seat seven might as well call, because he knows he wants to lose. At this point, I decide being quiet will probably work against me, so I decide to ask seat seven if he has Aces or Kings. He tells me he has Kings, and I ask to see. He flashes his two black K's to me and the table, and continues to convince himself that I dont have him beat. Seat one decides to work to my advantage, and tells seat seven to call, he knows his Kings are good.

YAHTZEEE!

I inform seat one that only one person to a hand, and kindly ask him not to coach the players. Seat seven asks me if I have aces, and I ask him to fold. "I didnt think you had Kings" were my exact words. He finally lets the AK light flash in his head, and puts his chips in the middle.

BINGO!

I flip my aces, seven shows his Kings, but four never shows his hand, along with seat one.

Literally ten minutes of two dealers trying to sort out all the sidepots. We finally get around to dealing a community card or two.

Flop of 789, two diamonds. Don't make it easy or anything.

Turn 5 of club's. Wow, seriously? I see it two beautiful A's going down in flames.

River is a happy looking duece of spades.

Seat one kindly informs me that he wasnt able to donkey anyone. Seat four muck's his cards in frustration, and seat seven mumbles something about Kings and AK.

I push my winning Aces towards the dealer, and get a sea of chips in return.

All in all, my stack calculated out to exactly 984 dollars after a nice tip to the dealer. And I happily told myself I had finally popped my 1000 pot cherry. If I smoked, I might have stepped out and had a puff or two, but I dont, so I stayed in my seat, and enjoyed stacking up my chips, thanking God that my aces held.

Monday, January 07, 2008

When things turn out for the good...

Back in 2004. I became the proud Father of my first baby boy.

Now, usually that line would make most people assume that this is one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. And it is, but it came after a very long, hard, and ultimately great struggle to finally hear say those words, and feel, well, good about it.

You see, even though my Son Connor was born on September 20, 2004. He wasnt able to see his older sisters face to face, or the bassinett we had set up for him until Dec. 15, 2004.

And what a Christmas present that was.

But lets go back to September 19.

We had friends over for the weekend the day of the 19th. They spent the night with their own young child, who is good friends with both of my daughters. And we all pretty much spent the day lounging around, watching movies, and letting the kids play outside. Pam was good for the most part, until the early evening, when she starting feeling slight pains in her abdomen. She thought it was nothing, maybe her body expanding for the baby. But she got very worried when she spotted. But that had happened off and on with all of our children, so we took it as a normal occurence.

Not long after that, our friends left, and we settled down for the night. It was a stressful time for us, for other reasons I might write about some other time, but I was expecting anything like what I woke to at 5 in the morning the next day.

I cant tell you how long she had been awake, but Pam finally jossled me just before five, telling me something was terribly wrong. Her pains were far worse, and she was bleeding a little too much to not be worried.

I assured her everything was going to be ok, and I called my Mother. She agreed to come over and watch my two other babies. And Pam and I went to the hospital.

Now, I have to remind you that we live in Waldorf. If anyone lives anywhere around D.C., they know Waldorf. And we had to make a drive from Waldorf...to Cheverly. Which is about an hour away, without traffic.

This was a Monday morning, right as rush hour... Yeah!

I thought during the first ten miles that we were going to be ok, and we would avoid the crush of rush hour that early in the morning. But when we hit the rt.301.5 split. I was confronted with the fact that I was going to have to break some traffic laws to get Pam to the hospital before something bad happened.

In bad, I mean the fact that Connor was not due until late November. He had another 2 1/2 months to go, at the least. The first though in the front of my mind was prayers to God to not take my Son away from me, and that a baby this early in the pregnancy would have zero chance of making it if he were born on the side of a highway.

I sometimes wonder what the people stuck in traffic were thinking seeing a minivan speed past the on the shoulder. I could have had twenty cars of Prince Georges finest behind me, and they would have followed me all the way to the hospital because I wasnt stopping. Luckily for us, not one cop was around that morning. And it allowed me to get to the hospital in just under fifty minutes. I think, I wasnt paying attention to the clock that morning, but Pam says I was moving like a bat out of hell.

As we got the hospital, I tryed to get Pam to let me take her straight to the ER, but she told me the contractions were far enough apart that we could park. So I did, but as I was looking for a wheelchair to get her in the hospital, they picked back up.

I cant remember what the receptionist was saying to me as I wheeled my Wife past her, but I dont think it was good, but she must have understood the situation, because security and hospital staff did not follow.

I got Pam to the Labor and Delivery unit as quick as any man my size could. And I told the nurses the situation. They assured me she was in the right place, and that I should go and sign her in.

I walked back past the receptionist, apologized, got my visitors pass, and proceeded to sign my wife into the hospital. I think this took, ohhh, ten minutes or so, im almost certain of this, because it was the quickest I have ever been able to sign into a hospital in my life.

I returned to the LAD unit, and went to the triage to look for Pam. As I passed the nurses station, they told me I had a boy, and I needed to go see him.

My exact words were. "What, already? Stop fucking with me"

One of the nurses giggled and said yes, my son indeed had come when I was no more than 50 yards away.

That is a thought that will stick with me for the rest of my life. Along with the sound I heard when I walked into the delivery room.

The sounds of my young, premature son attempting to breathe, and crying for life. To this day I shed tears at those sounds, as vivid now as they were that day.

I held Pams hand, and we both watched the doctors work urgently, and with great care, on our newborn son. They were very encouraging, and seemed confident that he was going to be just fine. They informed us that they needed to take him to the neo-natal unit, to work on him, because he seemed to need a little help to get stable.

Those fourty minutes felt like four days. The doctor on call came in twice to tell me everything was ok. The third time, I had been through enough, and told the doctor I needed some truth.

I guess he couldnt handle it, because another doctor came minutes later to tell me our Son was having a hard time oxygenating his body. And he was having trouble breathing. I asked the doctors if our Son was going to die. And they told me they just didnt know.

I think that was the lowest point I have ever been in my life. Pam and I sat and cried. We prayed, and we waited. It felt like the entire world was pushing against us.

After two hours, the doctors came back in to tell us that Connor was semi-stable, and that he would have a better chance to live if he was transported to the Childrens Medical Center in D.C.

Waiting for that ambulance to arrive was a horror to go through. The doctors continued to work on Connor, and at one point I was asked if I wanted a chaplain to come and baptise our son, and give him his last rights. We agreed. Pam was still having some compliactions, so they wheeled her in on her delivery bed. We all held hands with the Chaplain, and prayer for our Son.

That was the lowest I had ever been in my life.

The ambulance arrived. And I watched some of the most gentle hands work to take Connor to a better place for him. They were very calm, very confident, and very outspoken about the transport. I felt he was in better hands with these people than the Doctors who brought Connor into this world.

Forunately for me. My brother had gotten the call from my mother not long after we left Waldorf that morning. And he arrived at the hospital not even a half an hour after Connor was born. He watched them wheel Connor out of the delivery room in the incubator. He was that fast.

Noah, my brother, drove me to Childrens. We took a different route to the other hospital than the ambulance, attempting to arrive before Connor and his transport team. But neither I nor Noah knew the route well, and we got lost.

Talk about nerve racking.

We finally arrived at Childrens, and went through another grueling process of getting Connor Logan Craig signed into another hospital.

It was 40 long minutes before I was able to enter the NICU to see my baby boy.

Maybe it was for the best, because in that time, the NICU Doctors and nurses were able to get Connor stabalized, and he was finally recieving the oxygen he needed for his tiny, oh so tiny body.

His official weight at birth was given at 3' 13" ounces. He was 15 inches long, and he looked like he had been spent a month under the sun around the equator. He was tan, but in a newborn baby, thats not a good thing.

Connor spent almost three long months in the NICU, being poker and prodded, stuck and unstuck. Going two whole weeks without the presence of his parents because we both came down with the flu, and were not permitted in the NICU.

That was another long time for me, and probably for the best. Because the day finally came when we were allowed to see Connor, and I didnt even recognize my Son he had grown so much. I literally looked at the nurse and told her this wasnt my baby. To which she laughed, and assured me that it was. He was getting big, and much healthier looking. I had finally started coming out the slump I had been in for weeks.

Then the doctors wanted to have a meeting with us.

My wife, mother, and I sat down with two doctors in a small room. And listened as they explained to us that our Son had "dead zones" in his brain. And that he might not having difficulties as far as his mind would go. But that he might not ever walk. That he might have cerebral palsy. And that best case scenario, he would walk with a limp, or minor uncoordination.

I guess I was in a state of denial, because I looked directly at my mother and wife, and explained to them that Connor would not have any of these problems, "because his name is Craig" And Craigs are some tough, stubborn sons of bitches.

Sometimes its good to be stubborn, cocky, and correct.

Connor came home on December 15th, and has not looked back since. My Son, the second coming over Evil Knievel, started walking at 11 months, began speaking at 16 months, and is a complete terror to be around. Because he knows how to boss people around, and he likes to jump off the back of the couch.

Dont get me started on walking, this little man runs like the wind. No "uncoordination" whatsoever.

He is my pride.

I dont blame the Doctors for the meetings we had, where all of the worst case scenarios were spelled out. That is what they do, they have the worst task in the world of explaining to people what the trials and tribulations of life could be like. I think Doctors and Nurses are some of only people in the world who would be happy to be wrong about many things.

I also congratulate them, because if not for them. I dont know where my Son would be today. They gave him a chance at life, and I dont think he would be able to live that life without them.

Thank you.

Well, I know this is a poker blog, but seeing my Son tonight, playing, and laughing, and having fun with is Sisters and cousins. I had to write about that.

Friday, January 04, 2008

2008? WTF?

I know I havent posted in quite some time, around seven months to be exact. Alot of things have happened in that timeframe, so many things, I dont think I would know where to start.

But we have to start somewhere, so why not on the good things of 2007. It might seem like I dont have good words to speak of in 07, but I do. So lets begin.

Family life in 07 started out fairly good. Anyone that knows me, knows that I have eight people in my household. Those lovely eight consist of My wife, three insane children, and myself. Along with my Wifes Mother, Brother, and Sister. My brother and sister in law are mentally handicapped, which presents some challenges from time to time.

It wasnt really anything ever too strenuous as far as the challenges go. But when your dealing with two adults, who legally are adults, and are the ages of 21 and 23. You tend to think that these people will be upstanding, responsible citizens. That would be the case if said individuals were up on the wisdom that a 21 and 23 year old should have, but with Linda and Robert, we have two very young, very impressionable minds.

I found out many years ago that Robert and Linda have IQ's working somewhere between the 40's and 50's. I know there are many different IQ tests out these days, but the reports I read were state issused exams, so I have to take them for a very credible opinion.

What does this mean? Well, essentially it means I am dealing with adults that walk, talk, think, and reason like pre-teens. Literally.

Linda has an obsession with boys. And not good wholesome boys, no, she enjoys the ones who take advantage of her, and I end having to confront on some matters, and even some I have had to chase away. Its only happened three times this year. But each time has been full of drama. Drama that I thought I had left behind in high school.

I dont want to go into detail on any of the situations, but lets just say, it took some intervention from outside sources to get Linda back into the swing of being a working part of this family.

Robert, well, hes Robert. Hes quiet, calm, not easily rattled. But the boy couldnt handle two tasks if you were holding his hand. He gets going, but somewhere along the way. He falls. Ive come to grips with the fact that he might always be this way, and just when I thought I was in for some nights where I would be driving around Waldorf looking for him at 3 in the morning. An intervention happened with him as well, and he made it possible.

About six months ago, maybe late Spring, early Summer. I decided to pick Robert up from work, because he was having trouble bringng himself home. Usually Robert rides the local VanGo here in Waldorf, a ride that normally should only take him an hour. Lately though, Robert was coming home at 9,10, or 11 at night, when he would get off of work at 4,5,6. And I would constantly explain to him the severity of being out late in a town like Waldorf.

Its not the worst place to live in America, but we have enough of the wrong element in this city, that Robert would eventually find himself in a situation not to his liking.

I guess his intervention was one of those situations, but luckily, it was with people whom Robert considered friendly, and people who werent aware Robert had people looking out for him.

Sorry for the history, but it was needed, back to the story.

So, I picked Robert up from work, he told me he was getting off at 4, and lo and behold, here he is about to go home at 4. Good, lets go home, dont need you walking the streets buddy. Unfortunately, I had my children with me, so my truck cab was full. So I asked Robert to sit in the back.

As we were pulling away, I drove around three young idiots going towards Safeway, and I happened to hear them say something to Robert, but thought nothing of it. As we arrived home, Robert informed me that the young men we passed had been with Robert last night, and had taken his cellphone from him.

I questioned Robert as to why his "friends" would take something from him, to which he replied. Mike took it from me, and said he wouldnt give it back until I gave him the twenty dollars I owed him. I further questioned Robert on the matter of if he did in fact owe this idiot twenty dollars. After a few questions, I was convinced Robert did not owe this man any money, and that Robert needed to retrieve his property.

I went into the house, sat down, took my shoes off. And stared at Robert. Im not sure what got into me. Maybe its the fact that I havent had a serious confrontation since my early 20's. Maybe it was the fact that I knew Robert would be too scard to get back something that belonged to him from some local bullys. Whatever it was, I asked Robert to hand me my work boots. I looked at my wife, and told her,"if you get a call from Charles County, blame it on Robert, and come bail me out".

I walked out the door to Pam hysterically asking me what I was going to do. I never answered her. I simply got into my truck, peeled ass towards Safeway, and gleefully wondered who would swing first.

I guess the situation got the best of me, because I realized almost too late that I had a knife in my pocket, and 200 in cash on me. I removed all my items, placed them in my glovebox, and when I arrived at Safeway, I saw the three young punks sitting at the cafe tables outside the store. I tossed my keys under my seat, and got out of my truck.

As I approached the three men. I noticed one was a little "older" looking than the other two, and quickly realized the man was old enough to be an uncle, possibly my father, but that might be pushing the age gap.

As I approached the table. I noticed a cellphone sitting in front of one of the boys. I immediately grabbed it to see if it was Roberts. As I was inspecting it, the youngest looking boy said that it his cellphone, and I needed to give it back. I informed him that one of them had been accused of taking Roberts cellphone from him, and I wanted it back.

His response was typical. He didnt have Roberts cellphone, He and Robert were freinds, and he would never do something like that to Robert, "because they were cool".

Ok, no problem. Ill just keep your cellphone until you give me the one that Robert owned. And I began walking towards my truck.

At this point, the boy whose cellphone I confiscated, his name was Joe I came to find out. Told me that was his cellphone, and he had no idea who took Roberts, and that he needed it back. I explained to him that I was only giving Joe his phone back when Roberts was in my hand. He again said he would never take Roberts cellphone. I calmly asked him if he knew the number of the cellphone in my hand. He said yes, and I told him, "well, call me on this one when you want to give the other one back". And I began to walk towards my truck again.

At this point. One of the other morons, his name was Derek. Told me to "hold up", and that I "cant be rolling up on someone because they supposedly took his sons cell phone".

To which I replied "fuck you, he isnt my son. Derek came back with "well, your brothers cellphone".

My retort was..."hes not my fucking brother either, so fuck you, either you give it to me now, or Ill take Joe's, and yours". At this point, I was standing directly infront of Derek, and was pretty much waiting for him to swing.

Robert finally decided to get out of the truck, and informed me that neither Joe, nor Derek had taken his cellphone, it was actually the older looking man named Mike, who had been quiet the whole time.

I looked at Mike, asked him if Robert owed him twenty dollars, to which he replied no. I then asked him to give me Roberts cellphone, and I was only asking once. The next decision I make, was not going to be good for anyone standing around that table.

Robert spoke up again, this time, pointing to Mikes belt, where he had THREE cellphones clipped. Robert pointed to a cellphone, I dont know which one exactly.

I had enough, and told Mike to give me that cellphone, the one on his right hip. He handed me the cellphone, the wrong one ofcourse. And I told him, this isnt Roberts phone. His reply was "no, thats mine". I laughed, and said "would you like me to keep your phone too". He said no, and Robert told me his phone was one of the ones on Mikes left hip. I told Mike to hand me Roberts phone. He did, I inspected it, finding it was the correct phone I was looking for.

I threw Mikes phone at him, handed Joe his. And said thank you. And walked away.

Joe actually said thank you to me. That made the whole situation turn from drama to comedy for me. And I laughed.

Phew, that was a long story. I hope you read it all. And if you made it this far, youll be happy to know that Robert has really gotten himself together since then. He trusts my advice more, he no longer stays out longer than he needs to. And when I can allow him to hang out with some "friends". He comes home when I ask. So, all is well with the in-laws.

Pam and I have been doing good lately. I havent play very much poker in the past six months or so. And I miss it.

Alot of new characters out at the games these days. Some of the regular degenerates such Travis, Keenan, Noelle, E, Pops, and Anne. And some new faces like Billy, Blevins, Jeff, Katie, Rocco, Ricky, and Andy.

Needless to say, every game is an adventure. And all the people are wonderful, and frustrating at the same time. But its something I miss. Mostly because my game is all over the place, and instead of being a regular, I have become a stranger.

Heres to 2008 being a good year for my family, my life, my poker, and everything in between.

I think my next blog will be about two movies I watched as a teenager, and had certain opinions about. Only to find myself watching them again as an adult, husband, and father, and having slightly different views.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

When to walk away...

That has to be the question you always ask yourself when your having a good night. I myself have limits, I usually start getting on the downside of my playing time after midnight. This is usually more because I am tired than anything else. And when that happens, I usually start playing sporadically, and end up making mistakes that cost me money.

Last night did not dissapoint. I had over 1000 in front of me for awhile last night, and under my usual terms set awhile back, I told myself that if I hit 1k, then I was calling it a night not too long after that. I think, no matter how good I am running, from now on I need to make this a break point for me.

I just cannot seem to hold onto my chips when I get alot of them. I get insane draws. Once last night saw me flop an open ended straight flush draw, only to see my draws brick and brick on the turn and river, causing me to pay off a set of 8's. Yes, I am retarded.

Later on in the night, I was behind Blevins. I raised with K/Q somewhere in middle position. Blevins calls, and we see a flop of 3/9/K, with two diamonds. I proceed to bet, and Blevins smooth calls me. Next card is a Queen, and I bet again with my top two pair, and Blevins actually re-raises me. That bet confused me, because now I wondered if Blevins slow played a set on the flop, and decided letting me draw to something wasnt in his interest to the mission of winning the pot.

I decide to just call, trying to keep the pot small. Well, it wasnt a small pot at all, but I wanted to minimize what I lost in the hand, just in case I was paying off Blevins set.

The final card was a diamond, I check, and Blevins bets 150. I decide to call, partly out of frustration, partly out of not believing Blevins, and he flips over the nut flush. He got there.

I was so pissed, that I threw my chips into the pot, and proceeded to pelt everyone on the other side of the table with my chips. I threw them way too hard, and they splashed against all those guys, and to the floor on the other side of the table. I apologize if you read this fellas, I was intending to throw the money in the pot, but I was so pissed I tried to throw the chips 100 miles an hour.

I eventually lost almost all of the money, and only cashed out with a 150 dollar profit for the night. I am happy I walked away with some money, but I really suck, and if I am not playing well, I usually ship my profits, so I think I am going to keep my limit at 1000. And hopefully I have a few cashed in the near future that work out that way.